


Backup

by Russ (Quasar)



Series: Time Heals [4]
Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Gen, Missing Scene, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-02
Updated: 2014-08-02
Packaged: 2018-02-11 11:04:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2065740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quasar/pseuds/Russ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim explains to Blair about what it means to be a partner.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Backup

**Author's Note:**

> Written March 1998. Takes place after the episode "Deep Water."

Jim walked in from the balcony as he heard Sandburg enter the loft. "Hey buddy," he said by way of greeting.

Blair Sandburg just nodded, tossing his keys and sunglasses in the basket beside the door. He pulled off his fancy jacket -- a sort of muted plaid, if such a thing was possible -- and slung it through the doors of his bedroom. Jim's keen ears heard it _flump_ to the floor.

"Thought you were coming straight home after the funeral," Jim said cautiously, trying to gauge his roommate's state of mind.

"Yeah, well I meant to, but I had to do some thinking." Sandburg pulled open the refrigerator door and stared inside.

"About what?"

Throwing the fridge door closed without getting anything, Sandburg began to fill the kettle with water. "Just stuff. So, you seem cheery."

"I wouldn't put it like that, exactly."

Sandburg glanced up very briefly, trying to see without being seen. "Well, you're less tense, anyway."

"I talked with Emily Carson. About Jack. About . . . feeling guilty. She said we had to let it go."

"She's right. You did what you could, man. You brought his killers in and cleared his name. You need to cut yourself some slack -- stop expecting yourself to be perfect." Sandburg began to rummage through the collection of teas in the cupboard.

"Whatever."

Sandburg measured some loose tea into a strainer, then changed his mind and shook it back into the tin. "Oh yeah, I saw Sheila Irwin at the funeral. She wants to apologize."

"I heard."

"You would." Sandburg picked another tea and filled the strainer again.

Jim watched his partner closely. "So what were you thinking about?"

Sandburg sighed explosively, turned off the kettle and poured lukewarm water over his tea leaves. "Some of the guys were talking, after the funeral."

"Uh-oh."

"What do you mean 'uh-oh?'"

"Just that I have the feeling this is not something I'm going to like."

"Fine, man. Be that way." Sandburg carried his mug towards the bedroom.

"Wait, Chief. I didn't mean it like that. What were they saying?"

"Never mind, you wouldn't like it."

"Sandburg. Talk to me."

The kid looked up from under a fringe of hair.

"Please?"

Sandburg brushed the hair back with one hand so that it flew out like a wing. "Well, they were all surprised that you weren't there."

"I thought you understood about that."

"Yeah, I understood, and I tried to explain it to them. But they kept talking about how close you were with Jack, and how you wouldn't take another partner after he disappeared."

"Wait, I think I see where this is going --"

"And they were making jokes, you know, kinda teasing me, about what a surprise it was when you started letting me tag along."

"Sandburg, you know it wasn't --"

"I mean, I know I can't be as good of a partner as Jack was --"

"Hold it right there, Darwin." Jim held his hands up in a T. "Come here and sit down and take a deep breath."

Sandburg slumped onto the couch, nursing his tea.

"Now, you know the rest of the guys in the department are totally on the wrong track about our partnership -- about you and me. And you know _why_ they're on the wrong track. I thought you were okay with that."

"I am, I just --"

"Hang on, I'm talking here. So they don't understand why I _need_ you as my partner, right? We know that. But they also don't understand what was going on with Jack and me, or with me after Jack died."

Sandburg looked up with lost-puppy eyes half-hidden by hair that had slipped over his face again.

Jim sat on the other couch, angled towards his partner. "Jack was a great guy, and a good partner. He taught me a lot."

"Yeah, I know --"

"But you heard what Simon said about him in the Forensics garage. And he was right. Jack had his weaknesses, he had some major blind spots." Sighing, Jim ran a hand over his sparse, short-cropped hair. "I know that you and Simon both probably think the reason I was defending Jack was because I felt guilty about not being there for him."

"I never said that!"

Jim held up a hand. "It's true, I felt guilty. I still do. But I backed Jack up because that's what he did for me. Whatever his faults, he was always there when I needed him. He taught me that it was safe to trust again, and I was just trying to return the favor." Unable to sit still, Jim stood and began to pace the living area. "See, you have to understand where I was coming from when me and Jack were first partnered. I had a major attitude problem."

"You?"

"Yeah, me. Actually, it goes back to the Army. That mission going sour. I just didn't feel like I could trust my superior officers anymore. So I got out. Decided to become a cop. And I was good at it. With my background of independent command experience, I made detective in the shortest time allowed. And then I got assigned to Vice."

Jim rubbed uncomfortably at a stiff shoulder. "The captain in charge of Vice at the time was . . . not the most competent guy on the force. I got some tough assignments right from day one. I assumed it was just their way of breaking in the rookie, right?"

"I thought you were supposed to start rookies out easy," Sandburg murmured.

"Well, I did okay. I cracked some nasty cases, and got assigned to even tougher ones. And then the jokes were all about the Newsweek cover boy, hero of the year. The other detectives in Vice resented me for getting what they thought were the best cases. The captain was just using me to make his crummy department look better. I didn't feel like anybody was really on my side. And this coming right after the Army, I was just about convinced that . . . well, that that's just the way the world is. That you shouldn't expect to have competent commanders, or reliable co-workers. That it would always be every man for himself, no matter where I went."

Sandburg swallowed, looking disturbed. "Man. I had no idea police work could be so cut-throat."

"It shouldn't be. I learned that since then. Simon runs Major Crime a lot better. But back then . . . one day I needed backup, and it wasn't there. And I ended up in the hospital."

"Whoa. Is Vice really that dangerous? I thought it was, like, prostitution and gambling and stuff."

"And drugs. Most of the time, it's . . . more sordid than dangerous. People, usually kids, messing up their lives because they think it's a way out or a shortcut or something. Because they're greedy or stupid or just misinformed. And then on top of the pile there's the sharks making money off of all those ruined lives. The pimps and the bookies and the pushers getting rich while their victims pay through the nose. And the only way to catch them doing it is to go undercover and pretend to be the same kind of slime as they are. And half the time, even when you get solid proof of what one of these assholes is doing, the evidence gets thrown out because the lawyers claim it's entrapment.

"That's why you really need backup in Vice. Not because of the physical danger, just because it's so . . . exhausting. Morally, emotionally. You start to wonder if you're doing any good at all, and that's when you need someone to remind you of the times it really does work out."

"But you didn't have anyone like that."

Jim shook his head. "The other detectives were always too busy gloating whenever I made a mistake. And then sometimes, it really does get dangerous. Usually on the drugs cases. So one day my cover got blown, and I kept waiting for my backup to show, and they never did." Jim swallowed back bile at the memory. "I had to get myself out, and I barely managed it alive."

"So you got out of Vice?"

"I put in for a transfer. Less than a year after I'd been assigned. So I got moved to Major Crime, but I didn't really expect anything better. Then Simon got transferred too, as the new captain, and he assigned me and Jack to work together."

"And the rest is history."

"Yeah. Jack taught me about partners. He taught me about trust. He even managed to show me that it wasn't such a bad thing, believing in your captain. Stuff that I used to know before Peru, but never expected to believe again."

Sandburg nodded slowly, sipping at his tea. "Okay, I get it. So when Jack disappeared, you didn't trust anybody else to back you up after that."

"No! Dammit, Chief, weren't you listening? Jack taught me about trust, and then I failed him."

Sandburg leaned back, his mouth forming an 'oh.'

"I wasn't there when he needed me. Instead, I was screwing his girlfriend. He disappeared and nobody -- nobody -- believed he was innocent. I mean first of all, I couldn't stand to work with anybody else in the department when they all thought my partner had cut and run with the ransom money."

"And half of them probably thought you were in on it, too."

"Well, if they did, no one said so to my face. But mainly I couldn't take a partner because I didn't trust myself to be there for them."

"Man, that is so wrong. There is no one I'd trust more than you. You are like the king of last-minute rescues. Look what happened with --" Sandburg broke off, unable to say the name.

"With Lash? Yeah, look at it! I wasn't there when he came after you. You tried to call me, you paged me, and I didn't even hear the damn beeper. I should have guessed you'd be the next one he'd fix on. If I'd been on the ball, you wouldn't have been kidnapped."

"Jim, if you'd been anyone else, I'd be _dead_! You saved my life. That's backup, man. That's reliability. You are totally trustworthy."

"See there, that's exactly what I mean."

"What?" Sandburg looked around as if he thought Jim could be pointing to something behind him.

"That -- that -- faith you have in me. It's terrifying. One of these days, Sandburg, I'm not going to be there. And you're going to end up totally disillusioned, or more likely dead."

Sandburg set his tea down and stood up slowly, meeting Jim's eyes with purpose. "Jim, you are not responsible for my life. I take my own risks."

"And you trust me to get you out of whatever trouble you get into."

"Yeah, because historically, I have good reason to trust you. You've always been there. But that's like a gift, man. It's not something I take for granted."

Jim rubbed at his face. "I didn't mean for this to turn into some monologue about me."

Sandburg frowned. "What did you mean, then?"

"I meant to, to clear up some misperceptions you have about _you_. About being my partner. You have absolutely no reason to compare yourself to Jack, especially if you think you're coming off second best."

"Well . . . I mean, I know I'm not a cop, man."

"No, you're not. You'll never be the cop Jack was. But you are a good friend. You can even be a damn good investigator when you put your mind to it. And in some ways . . . in some ways . . ." Jim bogged down. "See, I was explaining that Jack taught me to trust again. He taught me it was okay to rely on other people. You, you're teaching me something totally different, but just as important."

"What's that?"

"To trust myself. To trust my skills, and my instincts, and this . . . Sentinel thing. I mean, what cop is gonna use meditation techniques to help me crack a case? It's stupid to compare yourself to cops, Sandburg, because you aren't one. But you are my partner. And I have to say . . . I think you're a better partner than Jack."

Sandburg's face glowed as if a light had been turned on inside. "You really mean that?"

"Yeah, I mean it." Jim backed off a little, uncomfortable at the naked happiness in his partner's eyes. "But you know, if we're going for honesty here, I also have to say . . . as a roommate you drive me up the wall."

Sandburg smiled brilliantly, not fazed for a moment by Jim's sudden refuge in humor. "Hey man, that's what roomies are for!"


End file.
